Slider was silent a moment, thinking of the trouble it would cause, thinking of the resistance from the family, from his seniors, the ruckus in the press. But as it was, it didn’t fit, it didn’t fit. And Radek was still above ground. Just. It would make it much worse to have to get an exhumation order later. If he was going to go any further, he had to act today.
‘Freddie, if I get the paperwork, could you do a re-examination? Could you test for poisoning?’
‘Certainly, Bill, certainly. You just tell me which poison.’
Ah, yes, there was the rub. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Can’t test for that one, chum.’
‘I’ll find out,’ Slider said, ‘I’ve got to give it some more thought.’
‘You certainly have,’ said Cameron. Slider could hear in his voice the quizzical edge of a man who thinks his friend’s got a chimera by the tail.
‘But you’ll hold yourself ready?’
‘I’ll have the bleeper with me, and I’ll come running at the sound of your lovely voice,’ Freddie promised.
Slider put the phone down dazedly. Which poison? Ah yes, and if there was a poison, who administered it, and how, and when, and why? It occurred to him that if Radek had been killed other than by shooting, it opened up the whole field of suspects again. It could be anyone. It could even be Fay Coleraine, and eliminating her from suspicion had been his only comfort from the beginning of the case.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Morning becomes Electric
Norma was the first in. Slider called her into his office and gave her a job to do. She listened gravely, nodded, and went away without comment or protest. Thank God for Norma, he thought, as he had so often thought before. Then he dialled Barrington’s number, but there was no answer. Slider contemplated calling his bleep, but then decided he was probably on his way here anyway, so he might as well wait until he arrived before tackling the delicate problem.
As he put the telephone down, it rang again. He thought immediately of Joanna, whom he hadn’t called yet; and then felt an absurd flush of guilt as it turned out to be Irene.
‘I thought you’d have called me over the weekend.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t have time. The case broke, and I was working twenty-four hours a day.’
‘You’ve got a result?’ It was the most interested she’d sounded about his job in years.
‘Yes. And a full voluntary confession.’ No point in telling her his doubts.
‘Oh good. I am pleased for you. And Matthew will be. He keeps badgering me for details.’
Slider thought briefly and painfully about the empty bedroom and the poster. ‘How is he? And Kate?’
‘They miss you,’ Irene said, surprisingly generously. But then, he reminded himself, she thought she was the guilty party.
‘They always did,’ he said. ‘Even when I was there.’
‘Bill, don’t. I don’t want to revive old quarrels. I want us to be friends now. Can’t we?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I want that too.’ He made an effort. ‘We must meet. I’ve got a lot of things to tell you.’
‘We’ve got to talk about the house. And the divorce. I’m sorry, Bill, but we have to talk about that.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Have you got somewhere to stay yet?’
‘Nearly. I’m working on it. I’ve got a bit of work to do on the case first, but I should be clear by the end of the week.’
‘Then come and see us. All of us, I mean. Come on Saturday so you can see the children.’
‘I don’t – don’t want to come to Ernie’s house.’
‘Oh Bill—!’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t want to see my children in his house.’
He surprised himself by the firmness with which he said it, and it seemed to surprise her, too. After a moment she said, almost respectfully, ‘Whatever you say, darling. We’ll meet you anywhere you like.’
‘Thanks,’ Slider said, and meant it. ‘Look, I must go now. I’ll ring you later in the week and arrange something for Saturday. We’ll go out somewhere nice. Have a think meanwhile where the children would like to go.’
‘I’ll ask them.’ A slight pause. ‘Are you all right? Are you eating properly and everything?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Only I know what you’re like when you’re in the middle of a case. You must take care of yourself.’
It was making him want to cry, all this tender concern. The sooner he confessed his guilt to her the better. ‘I’m fine, really. I’ll ring you on Friday.’
When she’d rung off, he pressed the rest for a dialling tone and called Joanna. The sound of her voice settled his ruffled feathers. ‘Nothing’s happened yet. I’m still working on my doubts. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve got somewhere.’
‘All right. Have you had breakfast?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Have some. You must feed the inner man.’
He smiled. ‘Not you as well! All this tender concern.’
‘I love you more than Atherton does,’ she said sternly.
‘He’s not in yet. I was talking to Irene.’
‘Oh. Now you’ve made me jealous. You called her before me.’
‘No, it’s all right, she called me. But I’ll have to go and see her next weekend. Her and the children.’
‘That’s all right. You don’t have to ask my permission.’
‘I’ll have to tell her about us.’
‘What about us?’ She sounded suspicious.
‘Well, everything.’
‘Oh no you don’t!’
‘But I have to. It isn’t fair. She thinks she’s the guilty party,’ Slider protested.
‘Don’t be such a gimboid! She probably enjoys it – all women like to feel dangerous, and precious little chance she’s ever had before. If you tell her all our past history, just to ease your own conscience, you’ll make her miserable and probably foul up the divorce into the bargain, and what good will that do? And the children will find out that you were unfaithful to their mother and they’ll be miserable too. Then she’ll probably try to stop you seeing them – and they’ll probably agree with her.’
‘You think so?’ he said doubtfully.
‘I know so. Leave well alone. Tell her nothing. You can pretend to meet me later on, and then she’ll be able to feel good about being glad you’ve found someone.’
‘That’s so devious.’
‘It’s common sense.’
‘But I’ll feel bad about deceiving her.’
‘So feel bad. That’s the price you pay. But don’t make her suffer for your sins.’
‘You’re a strange person. I should have thought most women would want to gloat.’
‘I’m a very remarkable person. And you don’t know anything about most women, whoever they are. Go and have some breakfast.’
The canteen was quiet, warm and steamy. Still glowing a little from being blessed by Joanna, Slider found himself with a huge appetite and wolfed down eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, double fried bread and two cups of tea as though everything in the garden was rosy. On the second cup, Atherton found him, looking worried.
‘They said you were up here. And they said you’d been in all night. What’s up, guv?’
Slider told him, and Atherton’s frown deepened.
‘There’s nothing to go on, guv,’ he said at last. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘It’s the cadaveric spasm that bothers me most, I think,’ Slider said, almost as if he hadn’t heard him. ‘And the way he fell. It was as if he didn’t even notice he’d been shot. Look at the sequence of events: he drops his stick, clutches at his throat, collapses and dies with both hands clenched. Now what does that look like to you?’
‘He was shot in the back. The shock caused a fatal syncope. Why look any further?’
‘Why did Buster not mention Polowski’s visit?’
‘You want to make him the murderer? The o
nly person who’s actually mourning Radek?’
Slider shook his head, not in denial but exasperation. ‘There’s something not right about it.’
Atherton looked doubtfully at the top of Slider’s head. ‘Guv, you can’t go to Mr Barrington with no more than this.’
‘Can’t go to him with anything. He’s not here – still in transit, I suppose. I telephoned his house and there’s no answer.’
That was a stopper, Atherton thought. If he’d tried to talk to Barrington, he must be serious about it.
‘All right,’ he said, sitting down opposite and putting his elbows on the table, ‘let’s have a look at it. If Radek was poisoned, because of the time factor he must have taken the poison in the dressing-room, otherwise he’d have developed symptoms sooner. So that narrows it down to Buster, who’s got to be prime suspect because of his closeness to the victim, or Des Riley, who comes in at number two, or Tony Whittam. No-one else came near him.’
‘Not Tony,’ Slider said. ‘He wasn’t alone with Radek at any point.’
‘Nor was Des, for that matter. But he might have gone into the dressing-room before Radek arrived and planted – whatever it was.’
‘In that case,’ Slider said, ‘it could have been anyone. Anyone in the orchestra. The verger. Anyone who knew Radek would be there.’
‘Ah, but what could they have planted? I went in there and clocked everything. There was nothing to eat or drink, not even a carafe of water. Only the water in the tap.’
‘It would be hard to poison that intentionally,’ Slider acknowledged. ‘I wonder if Marcus could have spiked something the day before, something he knew Radek would take with him?’
‘But what? Again, there was nothing in the dressing-room that he would have swallowed.’
‘I know. I’ve been over the list and I can’t work it out.’
‘Unless Buster took it away with him. We looked in Radek’s pockets but we didn’t frisk him.’
Slider pondered. ‘But look, if Buster – or anyone – deliberately poisoned Radek, they couldn’t have known Polowski was going to shoot him and cover the trail. So they’d have had to do it in some way that wouldn’t be found out, or at least that wouldn’t be traced back to them. If Radek had collapsed with symptoms of poisoning, everything in the dressing-room would have been impounded and analysed, and questions would have been asked as to where it came from. And in that case Buster would certainly have had to empty his pockets—’
‘Yes, if the symptoms had looked like poisoning,’ Atherton said. ‘But suppose it only looked like a heart attack? Everyone knew Radek had a bad heart—’
‘Because Buster had told them so,’ Slider finished triumphantly.
Atherton spread his hands. ‘Brilliant. QED. Except that Buster’s the only one without a motive to kill Radek.’
‘Forget motive.’
‘If you say so. But I repeat, you’ve still no real reason to think Radek didn’t die as a result of the gunshot.’
Slider’s face shut down. ‘Go along with me on this,’ he said tersely. ‘Humour me. I’ve just got a feeling about it.’ He got up, and walked towards the door.
Atherton shrugged and followed him. ‘You’re the guv’nor. And who am I to deny a man’s hunch? What do you want me to do?’
‘See if you can find anything in the records about Radek’s wife’s death. She’s supposed to have OD’d on sleeping pills. It was brought in accidental death at the inquest, but Fay thought it was suicide.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ He sounded puzzled, not seeing where that was leading.
‘Look up the newspapers, local and national. See if there was any speculation. Maybe it wasn’t what it seemed.’
‘Right, guv. You think it was Buster, then?’
‘I don’t know. But he ought to have told me Lev called. I can’t get over that.’
Back in his room, Slider picked up the phone and dialled Coleraine’s office. It was answered by a new secretary.
‘I’m temporary,’ she replied to Slider’s query. ‘Mrs Goodwin’s left.’
‘That was sudden, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, apparently,’ she said with a determined lack of interest. ‘Did you want to speak to Mr Coleraine?’
‘Yes, please,’ Slider said, rebuked.
Alec Coleraine was cool, and Slider wondered whether Helena had told him everything before she left. He didn’t challenge Slider with it, however. ‘I’m trying to catch up with things before tomorrow,’ he said. ‘It’ll be another day off, for the funeral, and business doesn’t look after itself. So I can’t spare you much time.’
‘I won’t keep you long,’ Slider said. ‘I just wanted to ask you what you know about Lev Polowski.’
‘What sort of thing do you want to know?’ Coleraine asked cautiously.
‘About his relationship with your father-in-law, particularly.’
‘Just a minute,’ Coleraine said sharply, and the phone went dead. Slider waited in the black felt embrace of Hold, his mind out of gear. At least there was no electronic ‘music’ here. It was quite cosy really, and he was very tired. Then Coleraine came back. ‘Just sending the temp away. I didn’t want her overhearing.’
‘About Polowski? Was it a secret, then?’
‘Look here, don’t play games with me,’ Coleraine said with something between anger and apprehension. ‘I know Lev’s been arrested, and I’ve worked the rest out for myself. He and Marcus have been hanging around together, and Lev’s as poor as a church mouse. Marcus put him up to it, didn’t he? Offered him a share of the loot. I should have realised—’
‘Should you?’
‘The duffel coat for one thing. How many people do you see nowadays wearing a duffel coat?’
‘You knew Lev had one?’
‘It was Marcus’s. I bought it for him, and it was damned expensive. From Burberry’s. I was pretty annoyed when he casually gave it to Lev, just because Lev didn’t have a coat. “Winter was coming on,” he said. It was like something out of Tolstoy.’
‘If you’d told us this before it would have saved a lot of trouble,’ Slider said sternly.
‘I didn’t think about it,’ Coleraine said, and there was a ring of truth to that. ‘You don’t think about overcoats when someone’s been murdered.’
‘All right,’ Slider said, ‘let’s leave that. Tell me about Lev’s relationship with Sir Stefan.’
‘Well, Stefan found him in Poland, brought him back, gave him money for a time, promoted his career.’
‘I know those things. I want to know about their personal relationship.’
‘Look, Inspector, this mustn’t go any further,’ Coleraine said urgently.
‘What mustn’t?’
‘About Lev being Stefan’s – you know. About them having a – an affair.’
‘You mean they were lovers?’
‘Oh Christ, don’t tell me you didn’t know that? Isn’t that what this is all about?’
‘The question is not what I know, but what you know.’
‘Well, they were – they went to bed together. But it’s got to be kept secret. It mustn’t get out.’
‘I’m afraid it’s bound to come out at the trial. It won’t be up to me to prevent it.’
Coleraine almost groaned. ‘Oh God, the scandal – the press – Fay mustn’t know! It would kill her. Anything like that’s anathema to her. She didn’t really know what Stefan was like, and the idea that he could – that he did it with boys—’
‘You really think she doesn’t know? She is his daughter, after all.’
‘You don’t understand. Fay is very innocent. Such a thing would never occur to her. Look here, I’d do anything to keep it from her – pay anything. Surely there’s something you can do? I mean, does it matter why Lev shot Stefan? Everyone saw him do it. There can’t be any doubt about that, can there?’
Slider passed over the suggestion of bribery, and said, ‘Did Mr Keaton know about Sir Stefan and Lev Polowski?’
<
br /> ‘Know? Oh, you mean that they—? Well, I don’t know, but I should think he must have. He never said anything to me, of course, but then he wouldn’t. He’s as particular as Fay, more so if that’s possible. It’s not a thing he’d ever talk about.’
‘You think he’d mind?’
‘Oh, he’d mind like hell. He’s a real puritan, and he saw himself as guardian of Stefan’s reputation, you know. I remember a time when one of the papers gave him a less than perfect review for a concert, and Buster nearly had a fit. He wanted to sue, then he wanted to go round and beat the editor up. In the end he only wrote letters, but he went on writing them for weeks, because the paper wouldn’t publish a retraction. If he knew about Lev he’d want to kill him.’
‘Thanks. You’ve been very helpful,’ Slider said.
This seemed to strike Coleraine as ominous. ‘Inspector, you have charged Lev, haven’t you?’
‘Yes. Yes, he has been charged.’
‘And – and Marcus?’
‘No decision has yet been made about whether to charge Marcus on any count.’
‘Whose decision is it?’ Coleraine asked eagerly. Slider could almost hear him fingering his wallet. Of course, he’d have all of Radek’s money to spend now.
‘The Crown Prosecution Service,’ Slider said. Mentally he added, do you want me to give you their number?
Norma came in, looking quietly triumphant. ‘There was something. I don’t know if there’s any connection, but you guessed right, guv.’
‘Sit down. Tell me,’ Slider said. He was so eager he hardly noticed her long, beautiful legs as she crossed them at him. Besides, her finding Barrington sexy rather took the shine off it. He couldn’t relish coming a poor second to the Man Mountain.
She put her notebook on her knee. ‘Keaton joined Fitzpayne School in September 1948. He married Doreen Scoggins in September 1949. I got hold of a man on the local paper, the Uckfield Gazette, who was very helpful, and he faxed me through the report on the wedding. It mentioned that Doreen had previously been engaged to a local boy, Peter Hepplewhite, who had died tragically in April that year, of food poisoning. The Gazette bloke sent me the report on that, too. There’d been quite a fuss about it. Hepplewhite fell ill after eating at the local newly-opened Chinese restaurant—’
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